


Drifting

by maely1234



Series: Natsume in the woods au [1]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Mention of blood, Natsume Week 2020, Past Abuse Mention, Suicidal Thoughts, because natsume's been through a lot, but im pretty sure wanting to not exist is a form of suicidal thoughts so im tagging to be safe, including various unnamed youkai, more like a slightly better ending, more like idealization?, sorta - Freeform, warning for a bit more violence than in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maely1234/pseuds/maely1234
Summary: If only he could vanish without anyone noticing. No pain, no trouble, no worries. A world where there is no one, no humans, no youkai, nothing.But he can’t have that. He swallows, the chill running up his spine as he imagines the Ishida family broken and devoured.You said you wouldn’t be trouble.Liar.Natsume will leave a note. A short, simple one, explaining that he had to go, making sure to offer thanks for their hospitality. They will still have to look for him- he will make sure to apologize for that too- but with a note, at least they can be absolved of the guilt.He hopes it will be enough for the Ishida’s to forgive him.Otherwise known as the au where the Fujiwara's are a bit too late, and things spiral from there.
Relationships: Madara "Nyanko-sensei" & Natsume Takashi
Series: Natsume in the woods au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813912
Comments: 22
Kudos: 224





	Drifting

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fic for what's definitely my favorite anime of all time, considering how much I always come back to it. I've always found this basic au idea fascinating, to think about what might have happened. I haven't been able to find anyone that fleshed it out in the way I want to see though so I took it upon myself to be the change in the world. 
> 
> I'm doing this as part of Natsume week, for day 1 Wandering/Belonging. I'm only going to be doing 2 drabbles for this idea thus far, but I have a lot of ideas for this fic that I want to expand on one day. Considering that this was supposed to be like 3k and it ended up being double that, you can trust that I certainly have the inspiration for it

Natsume enters the house in silence. He can see three pairs of shoes in the entryway, and he slips off his own. For a moment, he can only stare at his shoes, out of place among the others. 

Well, they won’t be there for much longer. 

A cold pit is gathering in his stomach. Mouth dry, he notes that the kitchen light is still on. He’s worried them again, he’s sure. 

Confirmation comes in the form of quiet, but strained voices slipping from the kitchen as he quietly pads forward. “He’s always out like this- or not coming home, or running from school. I just don’t understand what’s going on with him. I didn’t want to believe what everyone else was saying about him but- with all of this I just…” 

“I know. We’re supposed to have him for a while longer though.” 

Ah. This conversation again. He’s caught it in fragments between the Ishida’s before. and even if he hadn’t, he can recognize the tone well enough. The words may change from person to person, but the back and forth is one that is too deeply ingrained in his heart to be mistaken. He takes a deep breath, pretends he isn’t shaking and ignores his itching eyes and burning chest. 

_No one is waiting for you._

The youkai was right, of course. Right in the cruelest of ways. Natsume wonders what her name is, if he will learn it in the days to come. That cold pit within him grows colder, hollower. It is swallowing him up. He slips by the kitchen without a word, his entrance unnoticed. The Ishidas are too engrossed in their debate to pay any mind to the shadow of a teen wisping by them. His room- his beloved very own room, a kindness all its own- is dark. Not bothering to turn on the light, all he can do is collapse into bed, staring emptily at the blank wall.

The youkai’s intentions are far from noble, he knows that much. She smiles in the way that most spirits do, twisted and mean, eagerly following him for the joy of tormenting him. Her words are honey sweet, dripping with a poorly disguised poison. He has no choice though. He was stupid, naive, acting like he was five years old and still believed that some youkai were good and kind.So desperate to talk to someone- anyone. And at last, his fortune has run dry. There is nowhere to run, no way to escape. 

If only he could vanish without anyone noticing. No pain, no trouble, no worries. A world where there is no one, no humans, no youkai, nothing. 

But he can’t have that. He swallows, the chill running up his spine as he imagines the Ishida family broken and devoured. 

_You said you wouldn’t be trouble._

_Liar._

Natsume will leave a note. A short, simple one, explaining that he had to go, making sure to offer thanks for their hospitality. They will still have to look for him- he will make sure to apologize for that too- but with a note, at least they can be absolved of the guilt. 

He hopes it will be enough for the Ishida’s to forgive him. 

* * *

Carefully, gently, his belongings are packed away into his school bag. It might have saddened him, if he wasn’t used to having so little. The only things that are truly irreplaceable are the items sheltered within that small, unassuming box. They are all he has left of his family. Clothes, decorations, anything else could be replaced, but not these. He only packs a single change of clothes, food to last him a day at best, and the box. 

Despite having not eaten breakfast, Natsume feels sick. 

“How are you feeling Natsume?” Yoko- that is the name she told him, though he has no reason to believe it’s her actual name- croons, drawing out the sounds of his name in a pale imitation of a worried sigh. “Are you sad? Are you lonely?” A clothed limb drags up his arm, making him shiver. The reaction draws a smile out of Yoko, all sharp edges. She leans in close, murmuring, “Does it hurt? I hope it does. You’re so lovely when you hurt.” 

Natsume doesn’t say anything. Keeps his eyes forward, clouded and unfocused, pours what little strength he has into looking even more despondent and unaware. It’s easy, welcome even, to pull away like this, to distance himself from the way his throat burns and his stomach cramps with the vestiges of hunger. He had spent so long with the Ishida’s, hunger like this had become a distant memory. He guesses he should consider himself lucky, to have experience with this, but that is why he’s here in the first place. 

Without warning, Natsume is dragged forward, the rope around his neck and wrists chafing the already raw skin. 

“You can cry all you want here, don’t hold back,” Yoko grins, leaning over him as her stranglehold grip on the rope keeps him from moving back. 

Part of him wants to laugh in triumph. Yoko made her choice in poor taste if she expects him to cry for her. Natsume, throughout his life, has honed repression. Fear and disappointment are a second skin, oozing out from him and onto the people around him. Pain, sorrow, the aching loneliness that comes from knowing you have no one, he has walked beside them for as long as he remembers. Those tears have already been shed many times over. There is no room in his heart for more, and familiar with the pangs of hunger, the ache of thirst, the dull thud of his body revolting in the face of such mistreatment, Yoko cannot carve out a space. There is only a numbness, the howling pain of inevitability. For someone as unwanted as him, was there ever really another ending? 

Natsume wonders if his thoughts show on his face, because Yoko’s grin curves down into a frown, then further into a snarl at his lack of reaction. Her sleeve unfurls, revealing distorted hands armed with claws. 

He feels her nails dig into his arms more than he does see them. The pain makes him cry out, pull away uselessly as her grip tightens. 

“There we go, doesn’t that feel better? It’s so sad, keeping all that inside.” Another hand caresses his face as Yoko hums. Needle fingertips drag along his cheek, a warning and comforting touch wrapping into one. It only serves to make him wish he could jump out of his skin. 

Yoko pulls back, drifting away. “Do you want food? Are you thirsty? You humans are so fragile.” Despite her best effort to appear uninterested, every bit the uncaring tormentor she was, her gaze prickles as her eyes slide back to him. She’s watching, waiting, picking apart every expression until she finds what she wants in it. 

Natsume closes his eyes, leans back against the wall as if nothing has changed. He tucks his injured arm close to his side, heart hammering in his chest. His breaths are too loud against his ears, and as Yoko shuffles around, he cannot stop the flashes of fear that course through him. Real fear, that makes his stomach drop and world darken, not the hazy fuzz that usually accompanies him. 

At last, Yoko storms out with a growl, raking the walls of the cave as she goes. The new markings join the scores of frustrated lines carving into the dirt. Natsume barely dares to breathe after she’s gone. He opens his eyes to keep them pinned on the entrance, watching for her shadow to announce her surprise return, just so she can see if he did anything in the wake of false security. 

Time isn’t something Natsume can measure anymore. He keeps track of night and day from the sun that filters through the entrance, and weather much the same. He hadn’t had a phone when he left the Ishida’s, and even if he did, it wouldn’t have come with him. Not much good it would have done him regardless, with his bag rotting in the back corner. Yoko doesn’t let him touch it, only holding it out tauntingly to try and elicit the pain she craves. 

Well, he’s certainly in pain now. It isn’t the first scratch Natsume has gotten from her, but it is by far the worst of them. He can’t bring himself to despair over it too much though, not when the rope around his wrist hangs on by a threat, nearly torn clean in Yoko’s anger. It takes longer than he’s comfortable with to wrestle through the last thread with his teeth alone. At every noise, he hides his hand once more, panic rising at the thought of Yoko seeing- Yoko knowing what exactly he’s trying to do now. This is his one chance to escape, and Natsume cannot afford to let it slip by him. 

With one hand free, the other knots are dispatched in record time. As he stands, the world spins, head pounding as the blood rushes up with him. Panting, he braces himself against the wall, his vision pulsing before it evens out. Natsume feels made of paper, as if a breeze would blow him over. It takes him longer than he likes to find the strength to reach his bag. He leans down to pick it up, not trusting his ability to get back up if he were to squat down. 

A steadying hand remains on the cave wall as he makes his way to the exit. The entrance before him, Natsume pauses, taking deep breaths to gather his strength. He’s going to have to run fast and far if he wants any chance of escaping Yoko. 

Could he escape her? Natsume swallows with the realization that he doesn’t know. If she catches up to him after this, things will be so much worse. The thought stills him at the cave’s entrance, hesitation making him only stare into the awaiting outside world of tenuous freedom. What choice does he have though? Stay here?

_No one is waiting for you._

Yoko is the only one waiting for him here. And in the face of her sickly sweet whisperings and cruel claws, Natsume is better having nothing at all. 

The fact doesn’t change the hollowness in his chest, the aching weight that being unwanted by the world has left on his shoulders, but it gives him the determination to take the first step outside the cave, the next, the one after, until he is sprinting through the trees.

* * *

Yoko is howling. Natsume doesn’t know how far away he is, doesn’t know how far he managed to make it before his legs refused to take him any further, but it isn’t far enough to miss the echoing snarls of rage. He can vaguely catch words, most of which are Yoko declaring exactly what she has planned for him once she finds him. Listening makes his skin crawl, so he does his best to block out the words and just focus on judging the distance. He’s curled up behind a particularly thick bunch of bushes, backed against a tree. His fingers prick with splinters that he can’t find the energy to remove. 

This won’t work. She’s so much angrier than Natsume imagined. He curls his knees up, compacts himself further, bag squeezing into his chest in a way that’s uncomfortable, but not painful enough to warrant removing it. It’s all he has left now, if he lost it he- he…

He would truly have nothing. 

Natsume knows its stupid, to be so attached to a box full of knicknacks that he didn’t even pick out, but in there is his parent’s smiling faces, the few things left behind by his grandmother before them. 

Another howl, too close, makes him freeze. He barely dares to breathe, the sound of snapping branches making him flinch. Biting down on his cheeks, Natsume quiets his body into stillness. He can’t see anything through the thick foliage protecting him, but the sound is enough. 

“Natsume...Natsume…” Yoko crows. “I’ll find you. I’ll tear you apart. How dare- how dare you mock me- how dare?” 

A shadow passes over him, and Yoko’s voice is gone. 

Still, Natsume doesn’t risk moving a muscle, only unclenching his jaw when the inside of his cheek trickles blood. When the sun sets, he extracts himself from his hiding place. His body throbs with pain, sore from his position. The burning pain from Yoko’s scratches, the prickles of his blistered skin’s angry chafing, the thickness of his too dry tongue sitting in his mouth, it all comes together to make him thoroughly exhausted. Blearily, Natsume tries and fails to remember when Yoko last gave him a sip of water. 

Thinking of the youkai sends a shiver down his spine. First, he needs water though, and then he can figure out what to do about Yoko. 

Natsume can’t just expect to outrun her. He needs something more permanent. Youkai talk about others that have been defeated or sealed, and the stories about exorcists can’t be complete fiction, not when youkai are real and alive. So, Natsume has to find a way to seal Yoko- or worse. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he doesn’t- but he must. 

The rest he can figure out after. 

The poorly made leaf mask feels as if it will fly away at a moment’s notice, leaving him bare and open to the forest youkai’s attacks. Natsume perseveres, trying to summon even a shred of confidence. His bag is looped over his shoulder, its weight a comforting one against his thigh. 

There are few youkai to be found, for one reason or another. A problem made worse by the fact that Natsume can only see a step ahead at best. He’s been searching since finding the stream earlier. Being rehydrated sent a burst of energy into his system, one that is quickly wearing off as his search continues. 

A low murmur catches his attention, but Natsume is cautious in his approach. Better not to catch the attention of any powerful youkai in the area. Luckily, they’re both small, with none of the presence that the monstrously powerful ones exude. 

“Did you hear about Yoko? That human she caught escaped- how daring. He even has the sight and still was foolish enough to run from her,” the smaller of the two said, fanning his oxen face with a fan. His hands were some strange combination of hoof and human fingers, bending in ways that an animal should not be able to. 

His companion, a slender youkai that more resembled a tree than a person, made a low rumble. “How daring. We must be sure to eat him if we find him, surely such a bold human will taste exquisite.” 

Natsume grits his teeth, the familiar disgust rising. Humans may be unkind and cruel but at least they weren’t like this. They went after him because he was different, an intruder, not for the crime of simply seeing them. 

He straightens the mask, taking a deep breath. Back straight, he does his best to pour nonchalance and confidence into his walk as he emerges from the bushes. 

“Uh- hello there.” 

The oxen youkai sniffs the air, an easy smile on his face. “Hey, you’re a new guy. When did you get here?” 

“Oh I’m just travelling,” Natsume says, the lie ashen on his tongue. Even to monsters, the idea of lying twists his insides uncomfortably. “I’m not from around here, so I wanted to know if there was anything that could seal other youkai around here.” 

Tree youkai shudders. “Why ask about such intimidating things. Exorcists are no good.” 

“No good, no good,” Oxen youkai agrees with fervent nodding. “We’re lucky not to have had any- why would you spoil that?” Another deep sniff from him makes the hair on the back of Natsume’s neck stand up, uncomfortable with how the sideways pupils of the spirit seemed to look through him. “Hmm, you do smell like humans...did you come here to escape from them?” 

“Ah, yes,” Natsume nearly sags with relief. “I was captured by one, but I escaped. I want to be sure I can’t be caught again.” A bit of the truth isn’t bad, even if the situation is the reverse of what these youkai suspect. 

“No worries about that- there’s hardly anything around here, just that old pit up by the-”

“Didn’t you say that Yoko had caught a human?” The tree youkai interrupts, and Natsume goes very, very still. The hollow that Natsume assumes is its face is dark and looming. “Strange that we should find a new friend that smells so strongly of them.”

Oxen youkai’s eyes narrow. “Now that you mention it, that is strange. Maybe we should-” 

Natsume doesn’t let him finish, rushing forward to grab the collar of the spirit’s robes. “Tell me where the well is and how I use it,” he growls. If this was any other day, any other circumstance, he would have waited, would have only lashed out if he couldn’t escape. Running is not an option here. He cannot afford to fail or take any longer than necessary. Uncaring of how panicked his voice is, he pleads, “Tell me- tell me!” 

“Okay okay! It’s up by the old cliff in the east. I don’t know how it works- it’s been there forever. Some old priest probably tried to set it up but got eaten. There are some seals painted on the lid.”

Natsume lets him go, bolting away into the forest and praying the youkai don’t give chase. He can’t tell directions when it’s this dark, he’ll have to wait until morning. He’ll stay up, to see where the sun rises. In the morning, he can end this. 

_Where will you go? Nobody wants you._

Natsume curls up inside of another bush with aching fingers and an empty chest, and pretends not to hear the voice in his head that whispers cruel truths. 

* * *

Morning comes, and Natsume is more tired than he has ever been in his life. Moving is a struggle, his body first stiff and crackling from his night spent curled up, then becoming dragged down by lead as he makes his way eastward. At this rate, he might not have the strength to even make it to the cliff, let alone manage to seal Yoko.

He forces his battered body to continue regardless. 

There is a fog in the air, though it is made thin by the emerging sun. It sticks to his hair, refreshing despite the situation at hand. 

In a stroke of luck, the tree line recedes, revealing the upwards slope, and more pressingly, the rocky cliffside that jutted out from it. Making his way up is certainly not the hardest thing Natsume has ever done, but as his legs burn with exhaustion, he can’t help but wonder if this is as far as he will go. 

It isn’t, because while Natsume knows he is frail, too little muscle clinging to his bones and a composure that is too prone to breaking, he has had a childhood of pain to adapt to. The spirits that chased him took no pity on his age, only seeing an easy target. So Natsume ran, he ran and he punched only when he had to. Tried to do the same to the kids that beat him up in elementary and learned that his small, trembling fists weren’t nearly as strong against people as they were spirits. Instead, he learned to run until his lunch made its way onto the floor, and then further still until his legs collapsed. He knew hunger, he knew thirst, he knew pain. 

He knows kindness too. Little ways that the people around him showed that they cared; infinitesimal displays that mean nothing to most bring tears to his eyes. The way Ishida-kun had pulled his scarf tighter the morning that Natsume ran had made his breath catch, shaking hands and burning eyes threatening to reveal the truth then and there. 

They hadn’t, Natsume is too good at deflecting, distracting. The art of hiding is one Natsume hates being so intimate with, hates how easily lies come to his tongue, even in the face of Ishida-kun, who has been nothing but accepting. 

Kindness, Natsume knows in the form of the lid sitting innocently on the cliff’s edge. Thank goodness. Frantically, he stumbles over to the wooden lid, noting the paper seals still attached, seemingly unweathered despite there being no protection from the elements. The lid slips out of his grasp countless times as he carries it over to the nearby trees, until Natsume resorts to rolling it across the ground. 

They make it to the trees, and tucked behind a bush for the third time in the past day, Natsume collapses. His heart rabbits in his ears, drowning out the harsh sounds of breathing as his lungs fight for air. He’s sure that those youkai will find some way to warn Yoko of his intentions, and that she will come here in a rage. His only hope of success is to catch her by surprise, give her no chance to retaliate. 

Now, the only thing he has to do is wait. Wait, and be ready. As he does, he begins to pull the splinters out of his skin. If only he had something to clean them with, even water would do; no matter how small, with so many of them, infection might be around the corner. Natsume grimaces at the thought, chiding himself after. What need is there to worry about the future when his own is so uncertain? 

There are so many things that could happen in this moment, a maze of possibilities. Maybe he will seal Yoko, maybe she will escape his attempt, or Natsume will simply fail to seal her because he has no idea how to. Then… then… Natsume grits his teeth. The scratches in his arm are still stinging- those are likely infected already. 

“Natsume. Oh Natsume.” A voice sing-songs, despite how it trembles with some emotion- rage, Natsume assumes. 

Carefully, his mind goes blank. He barely registers himself picking up the lid with a white knuckle grip, all his senses honed in on yoko’s form steadily approaching. 

“A little branch told me where you went. Come on out Natsume. I know what I did wrong now.” Closer now, Natsume can hear the snarl underlying her words, spittle flying. “I was too soft on you. Games are so much fun you know- but not anymore. Come out Natsume, and I can show you how to be afraid of me.” 

Yoko drifts past his hiding place, into the clearing ahead. Now is the time to move, to act, while her back is turned, but Natsume finds his limbs unresponsive, body locked stiff. 

“So arrogant,” she mutters, looking around. “There isn’t even a lid here. Foolish little human child- thinking he will best me. How dare- how dare- I’ll chain him up, destroy his bag, and then I’ll cut him. Cut him and cut him and cut him and-” 

Natsume takes a deep breath. Steels himself. He thinks back to the cave, his still raw skin, the aching hunger, and he leaps to his feet, charging ahead with every ounce of strength he could muster. 

His shouts are distant in his ears, unimportant as he makes contact with Yoko. Mid turn around, the spirit is shoved back. 

Right into the awaiting hole. 

Natsume falls onto the lid after her, not fighting how the force of the impact drags him. Pressing down, he grits his teeth and resolves himself to wait until the seal is complete.

“I’ll eat you- I’ll eat you! You insolent human child!” Yoko shrieks, ramming and clawing at the lid in a way that makes Natsume jolt with every strike. 

Please work, he begs the lid, please. 

The seals glimmer momentarily, before stretching and pasting themselves to the ground. There’s a flash, a wave of something crashing into him. Natsume sees the world twist around him, trees becoming sky. 

Then it goes dark. 

* * *

When Natsume awakens, the sun is high, blinding his unprepared eyes. The throbbing of his wrist makes itself known as he blinks himself into awareness. Where was he? He had been waiting for-

Yoko. 

Natsume shot up, ignoring the way his head spun. Had it worked? It had, right? Or else he wouldn’t still be here in the forest. Still, he must be sure. As he sits up, he catalogues the other pains in his body. He can remember being thrown back by something, hence his sore wrist. Experimentally, he moves his hand up, and sighs as the motion doesn’t bring anything excruciating. Not broken then. His back hurts, a particularly nasty feeling bruise up by his shoulder. Other than that, he is more or less unscathed by the wave of energy. Another stroke of good luck. 

His bag is still secured on his side, latched shut. Natsume smiles at the sight of it. At least it made it through with little damage to show. With a deep breath to steady himself, Natsume pushes upwards, slowly rising onto his knees before standing. His stomach reminds him of its existence with a sharp cramp, and Natsume makes a note to try and find some food later. 

Slow, shuffling steps bring him over to the pit. The paper seals still hold fast, glued to the ground. Natsume sinks to the ground, relief taking away what little energy he had left. He debates trying to keep himself sitting at least, but the appeal to lay down without the threat of capture is too great to ignore. The grass is cool and soft under him, the sky endless above him. 

Yet, Natsume is hollow. He can’t go back to the Ishida’s, not after being away for so long. There would only be questions he couldn’t answer, a new home to get adjusted to- because surely the Ishida’s wouldn’t keep such a troublesome kid, not after a mistake this big- new people to be unwanted by. 

Traitorously, the thought of simply staying here flits through his mind. He frowns, disgust curling through him. What does he expect, to live among the spirits? How could he do something as absurd as that? Ignoring his own mix of fear and distaste, he can’t exactly stay with the same creatures that either want to eat him or to torment him. 

But what other option is there? 

Natsume closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath of the afternoon air. Part of him wants to simply exist in this moment forever, hidden away, unbothered and untouched. The world keeps turning though, regardless of his wish for it to stop. Kindness does not exist to grant him peace. 

He’ll have to leave here. Go somewhere that doesn’t know of Yoko and the human she captured. Those other youkai had bought his story easily enough, with the leaf mask. He could make a better mask, maybe find a festival somewhere to pick up one that looks more like an actual spirit mask. His wallet is in his bag, meager funds inside. 

This twisted feeling in his chest isn’t happiness or elation, it’s probably not even contentment. Instead, he’s reminded of when he was younger and still had hope that he could fit in with his relatives. One more try, he had told himself, one more family and then he’ll find a home. 

An empty world before him, Natsume tries to find that youthful optimism. One more try, and then he’ll…

He doesn’t know. But one last try is all he’ll give. 

* * *

Lights flicker in the distance, faint from his position at the forest’s edge. The smooth texture of the kitsune mask is soothing beneath his fingers. He had picked it up tonight, the local festival finally providing a replacement for the many, many leaf masks Natsume has gone through in the past weeks. He supposes he shouldn’t be too angry at them, they provided enough protection to let youkai show him where they found their food, even if the disguise had never lasted. 

The mask is simple. It had to be for Natsume’s small wallet. He only has a few hundred yen left regardless, to be saved in case he was really desperate. While pity isn’t something he likes receiving, he has to admit its helpful. He had gotten a steamed bun tonight out of it. The woman running the stall had called him over, given it to him with the comment of, “make sure you get some more food tonight kid.” 

Natsume had swallowed, throat thick, not knowing how he should respond. “Thank you,” he had whispered, holding the bun close. 

The sweet taste sticks to his teeth as he runs his tongue over them. Half the bun is still in his bag, waiting to be eaten later. He wanted to stay longer, to enjoy the loud, but comforting atmosphere that the lanterns and vendors had brought, ripe with nostalgia. Yet, standing in the sea of people, all Natsume could think of was how out of place he felt, how distant. He’s felt out of place before, when he was young and wandering through the crowd alone, either by choice or because his foster siblings had abandoned him, but today there had been a void between him and everyone else, uncrossable and entirely of his own making. How quickly he had grown accustomed to the loneliness of his days, the quiet sounds of the forest, of scouting out the area’s youkai to find food and water. Among people, the dirt on his river-washed clothes was more prevalent than ever, as was his quiet, wary nature that attracted looks from the curious and concerned alike. 

Natsume is out of place. Too human to be a youkai and yet too strange to just be a human. He runs a finger along the painted eyebrow of the kitsune mask. A bright red, they stand out even here, where moonlight is the only illuminator. There are two stripes under the eyes as well, that curve alongside the mask’s snout. Natsume tries it on, the string looped through the mask resting comfortably around his head. 

He looks around, making sure he can still see enough. There’s some peripheral vision, and he can clearly see ahead of him. Good. This will help him blend in better, but there’s still that ‘human scent’ that the spirits always talk about. Underneath the mask, Natsume frowns. 

A strong breeze ruffles his hair, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and can’t help his cry at the sight of a giant wolf- or maybe fox, it’s far too slender and disproportionate to be a wolf spirit. It lands in near silence beside him, flowing silver fur glistening under the night sky. Its tail curls and flows like a living creature, longer than the body itself. Nervously, Natsume looks down to see giant paws, tipped with claws bigger than his face. 

“Oi,” the creature grumbles, lowering its face to peer at Natsume. “Are you local here?” 

“More or less,” Natsume says softly, not quite trusting his voice. It’s been a while since he’s encountered a youkai quite this large; he hopes his fists are enough to stun it. 

The creature sniffs the air, tilting its head. “You were at the festival?” 

Natsume’s spine snaps straight, and the spirit huffs in what he hopes is amusement. “Don’t look so shamefaced, it’s annoying. What? You sneak out? Whatever. You ever heard of the book of friends?” 

Natsume shakes his head carefully, one hand coming to clutch at the string of his bag. He does his best not to think of the faded old book in there, ‘Book of Friends’ so roughly written on its cover and filled with meaningless scribbles. Surely they couldn’t be the same thing. Surely. 

“Useless,” the youkai growls, but it isn’t looking at Natsume anymore. “How far could she have possibly gotten? She’s just a human- they shouldn’t even be able to move this fast.” 

“Human?” Natsume can’t help but blurt out, curiosity piqued. If this youkai was chasing after some poor girl...it would be his responsibility to help chase it elsewhere before she got hurt. 

“It’s none of your concern.” With a lash of its tail, the creature grumbles, “What do you care anyways, you already stink of them.” It takes another whiff, as if to confirm its statement. Its head is close enough now that Natsume can stare into large green eyes and see how they narrow. That is never a good sign. 

“...Too much like them.” It stares at him, considering. Before Natsume can move, a paw sweeps him back, claws catching and ripping his mask away. 

Natsume hits the ground hard, coughing. He blinks, and the creature is above him, pinning him to the ground. 

“ _Natsume Reiko_ ,” It says, and Natsume’s breath is stolen from him. He’s heard his grandmother’s name from a few youkai, but none this powerful, and not with the same intent. There is no hunger, no rage, only a snappy annoyance, but beneath that there is something familiar and undeniably fond. Just what happened between his grandmother and this youkai? “There you are. You always did have far too much spiritual power for a human but I didn’t think it would be-” 

The creature pauses in its tirade, refocuses those intense green eyes back onto Natsume’s face. It takes another sniff. Draws its head back, snout crinkling. “Wait. You’re not her.” 

“She was my grandmother,” Natsume admits. “I’m Natsume Takashi.” 

“...Was?” 

“She died when I was young,” he says, the familiar twinge of longing plucking at his heart. For youkai to know her, his grandmother would have had to see them. If she had lived, what would his life been like? 

“So you’re her inheritor?” 

“Not really, she didn’t leave much behind. No one ever told me anything about her.” 

The youkai leans closer. “She would have left it behind. The book of friends- it’s too powerful to just destroy.” 

Natsume swallows, grip around his bag tightening. “I don’t know.”

The youkai looks into his eyes, then scans the rest of him, eyes settling on the hardened grip. It smiles, and Natsume reacts, free hand coming to hit the youkai squarely on its snout. With a yelp, it springs away, shaking its head violently. 

“Damn. You hit just as hard, eh?”

Natsume only has enough time to scramble to his feet before the youkai recovers. It watches him carefully and says, “That book is rightfully mine- no human should be burdened by it.” 

“Why?” 

“It has the names of youkai that Reiko made contracts with. Anyone with the book has complete control over the youkai whose names are written inside.” 

He can’t help the shudder that runs down his spine. To take away someone’s freedom, even if they were a youkai, it was cruel. “Shouldn’t it be destroyed?” 

The youkai snorts, “Sure, if you want to kill them. If you damage the pages it hurts the youkai bound to them. Burn the book, and the spirits would burst into flames as well.” 

“Isn’t there a way to release the contracts?” 

“None that you need to concern yourself with. Because I’ll be taking it.” The youkai lunges, and it’s only Natsume’s reflexes that save him. Another punch sends the youkai sprawling in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a- 

“A Manaki-neko?” 

“I am a powerful spirit beyond anything you’ve ever seen. I was simply trapped in this form- don’t you laugh!” The youkai, now much, much smaller, puffs up just like an angry cat, swatting at Natsume’s ankles in a way that can only be described as cute. 

“What’s your name?” Natsume asks, laughter subsiding as he squats down. The fear he had for the youkai is gone too, now that he knows it can be taken out with a few punches. 

The cat draws itself up imperiously, waving a paw at Natsume with obvious arrogance. “I, foolish human, am the great Madara.” 

Madara waits, cat face somehow looking expectant. Natsume doesn’t know what for, so he simply blinks. Madara sighs, his paw dragging across his face. “Obviously, you know nothing of my greatness.” 

“Did my grandmother?” 

“Hmph. What a stupid question. Of course she did- she worshiped the ground I walked on.” 

Natsume hum noncommittally, more caught up in the exaltation that he could ask someone about his grandmother and get an answer besides ‘I don’t know.’

“So do you have it?” The question makes Natsume flinch, from how close Madara got without him noticing. His hand goes over his bag again, ready to protect. When Madara just stares evenly back at him, Natsume opens the flap, feeling blindly for the book. Its texture stands out from the rest of the trinkets, and pulling it out, he looks at it with a new light. 

Madara leaps, straight towards the hand with the book, tackling Natsume to the ground in the process. The sudden attack has Natsume’s mind reeling for a second before he snaps into action, flinging Madara away from the book and giving him another smack to the head for good measure. The book is put back into his bag for safekeeping, away from that cat’s eager paws. 

When Madara rises this time, it is with a circling gait that reveals he can’t quite see where he’s going. Natsume feels bad, but shoves the thought away. Madara had tried to- presumably- eat him to steal the book of friends, the book that would give him power over dozens and dozens of helpless youkai. He deserves no sympathy. 

“How can I free spirits from the contract?” 

Madara eyes him with a still dazed, but disdainful air. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because they deserve to be free. And this is something precious my grandmother left behind, I want to be the one to take care of it,” Natsume answers honestly. The times spent combing through the pages, wondering what the scribbles could possibly mean, now send a pain down him, thinking of just how many pages he’s flipped through, each with their own name. 

Beyond that, Natsume thinks of his life since Yoko. Filled with meaningless wanderings, it has been getting harder and harder to find a reason to get up in the morning. The festival, the mask, he had been hoping it would give him the motivation to keep going for just a bit longer. Now, it is his responsibility to look after the book though, or to ensure that whoever got it after him would be just as eager to return the names trapped within. 

Natsume realizes Madara hasn’t replied, and looks over at the cat. Finding his gaze met, Natsume blinks and looks away. 

“You’re different from her.” The admission is soft, but sure. Madara huffs after, shaking as if to rid himself of the thought. “Alright kid, let’s make a deal.” 

Natsume draws himself back, hunched and wary. “What kind of deal?” 

“For the book of course.” Madara rolls his eyes. “I’ll be your bodyguard to protect your weak human body from the nastier youkai that’ll come after the book, and in return I want the book once you’re dead.” 

Natsume takes his time, considering the words and how they were spoken. This is a youkai that knew his grandmother, knew her well enough to say her name with fondness, to look for her even after years apart. He was also rude, arrogant, and absolutely planning to misuse the book. Natsume shakes his head. 

“What? You would refuse such a generous deal?” Madara openly gapes. 

“I can protect myself, and you just want the book for its power,” Natsume explains. 

“Of course I do- who wouldn’t? There’s nothing else like it.” There is a pause, in which Madara tilts his head, a smirk appearing. “...Then how about this. I’ll tell you how to return the names if you accept my deal.” 

Natsume doesn’t even try to hide his glower. It is a low blow, to hold something as precious as freedom as leverage against him. But as is the case with much of his life, he finds himself with no other options. 

With his glare still etched onto his face, Natsume mutters, “Fine.” 

“It’s a deal,” Madara says, looking far too smug. 

* * *

Natsume thinks he’s formed a peace with Madara over the past month. The cat has stopped trying to take the book at every opportunity. He didn’t even wake up to Madara’s drooling on him, teeth dangerously close to Natsume’s head. Madara has become “Nyanko” on occasion, as Natsume grows accustomed to seeing the fat cat trailing behind him, or perched on his shoulder. 

It’s easy, waking to Madara’s complaints. He kept Natsume moving, with his constant search for good food and alcohol. The spirit had even kept his end of the bargain, fending off a snake youkai when it had caught Natsume with his mask off. 

Natsume doesn’t think Madara realizes just how much simpler Natsume’s life has become since he entered it. With the mask on and Madara by his side, he was never caught, never chased. What was impossible has become mundane, and Natsume walks through most days in a bright haze. 

Of course, there are names to return. He asks about the book when he can, and of the spirits who gave their names away. Most are happy to see him, eager to have their names returned. Some are seething and bitter, lunging to try and take their vengeance, only to be stopped by Madara. Some know of others, and can point the pair to their next destination.

“Hmm, a book of friends you say? I can’t say I’ve heard of it.” The tengu Akari says, stroking her beak. There are four of them in the clearing with Natsume and Madara. 

“I have!” Sachi says, eagerly lifting a hand. “I heard a demon made it- she’s taller than any youkai and twice as scary. She beats down every youkai she sees with her claws. It’s super cool.” 

Natsume smiles, even though its hidden by the mask. He doubts Reiko was quite that tall, but he won’t distort Sachi’s fantasy of her. 

“Why do you ask?” Hori asks, eyes narrow as she swirls the contents of her cup around. 

“We’re looking for it,” Madara says, and Natsume appreciates how easily the spirit lies for them, saving Natsume the discomfort. 

Hori nods. “I wish you luck. Be careful. If it’s really as dangerous as they say, it may cost you your life.” 

“It’s alright,” Natsume says, something in him twisting with the genuine concern that was laced into the statement. 

Once the tengu have had their fill of food and conversation, Madara shoos them away with the patience of a toddler. 

“Birds,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes. “Always talking.” 

“You talked just as much as they did,” Natsume reminds him, and Madara splutters. 

“Well I have many insightful things to add. It would be cruel to keep all my wonderful thoughts to myself. 

Natsume laughs, soft and easy, as if he’s been doing it for his whole life. To think, existing with a youkai could be like this. 

One last try, he had told himself. 

Well, Natsume thinks this time might just work out. 


End file.
